Rachel didn't grow up in the most ordinary of circumstances. Her parents holding true to making a life for themselves that appeared more average than it was. But with a little digging past the surface, it was more than some happy couple taking care of their daughter. With both of her parents working in a funeral home, it wasn't so far fetched that their little girl ran the halls as she pleased. Little chubby legs moving as fast as they could be carried, giggling as she ran from her father. A happy sight when there was nothing but death surrounding them. The dead being laid to rest by their own loved ones. A nice sight, although sometimes unwarranted and full of apologies. It wasn't a family run business, but it was theirs, especially given that it was one where her father had taken on as his own.

Her preadolescent years were not nearly as happy, but that was to be expected in raising a little girl. With her body changing and hormones pushing to rush past the surface. Instead of being the outgoing little girl she once was, she began to become more silent and stuck to hanging around the funeral home. Little to few questions left, as she asked most of them while she was even younger. How things worked, where papers went. She wanted to help, having looked up to her parents, and especially her father for so long. This was the one life she always had known. Her one true home.

It wasn't until her teenage years that this all came crashing down. Everything would come in a whirlwind of explanations that she never knew of. Questions that she would even be asked, but were told never to speak of. Her father had been committing criminal acts without either Rachel, or her mothers knoweldge. The way that some bodies were disposed of, in order to make extra profit. Aiding in some drug trades. She was disgusted and refused to believe anything that she saw or heard on television. This was not how things were done, she had seen it, she was so sure. But in the end, he was convicted, and the evidence was there. It became a struggle to know how or why it all happened. They always had money, but people always died. This wasn't something that was unexpected, it was part of life.

Her mother hadn't been able to handle any of it. Completely unprepared for the spotlight, the questions, and worst of all, having no money after it was all said and done. Rachel was old enough to take care of herself, as far as she was concerned. The woman leaving her behind the first chance she had. Struggling, but finishing her last years of high school, she applied and was accepted into college. It helped, but she didn't know what to do with her life anymore. Everything had changed so much and it just led her to being even more of an introvert than she once had been.

Upon graduating with a bachelor's degree, she left, taking what was left of her student loan money and saved funds from side jobs with waitressing. Every dime that hadn't gone to her living expenses, food, and the school, she took off on a little road trip. Trying to find a place to start over. It didn't have to be great and new, just a place she could call her own and be proud of. A roof over her head, food to eat, and a job to hold. Wanting away from the west coast, holding too many memories, she went east. Bouncing around major cities, mostly, it wasn't until she ended up in Boston that she felt like she had found a home. Friends she knew from before, people she cared about, and a job that she held the skills for. Maybe memories of home weren't all so bad. She could hold those pieces and juggle this life with the best of them.